the hero, not the bad guy
by gleek987
Summary: every little girl needs their daddy to be the good guy, even if they have to delude themselves. slight gore/death.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, I know I have a few stories to finish but this is just a one shot and I had to write it because it literally woke me up! So here it is!

Small black tinted tears fell down her plump cheeks, the ones that had escaped from her stubborn eyes and slid down in such a taunting way she wanted to rip out her own orbs of sight. They had disobeyed her and showed weakness, and Parkinson's do not show weakness, not even when alone. And right at this second she had never felt more so. In-fact she couldn't find a word to describe the way she felt. Depressed, that wasn't strong enough nor did it show all the anger, which is another poor word. Hurt. Pain. Anxiety. But most of all, disappointment. However, she had no real reason to feel such a thing. She had been brought into this life and she knew what was to be expected. She knew she should feel nothing for the lives that have been taken from the bodies in front of her by the man who claims to be her father. She knows she should get used to in, because before she has a chance to blink it will be her with her one of a kind wand at the neck of a defenceless old widow or a young man with his whole life ahead of him. She knew it would happen to her sooner or later. But it didn't mean that the thought of doing that to someone, robbing them of the only thing they can truly call theirs will be a million times worse then witnessing it, this being one of the hardest things she has ever had to do.

Surrounding her was lifeless bodies of men, women, children and elders ranging in race, religion and so many other factors. Every pair of glassy eyes that had just moments before held life and fear were now empty, it was like looking into a black hole. It sucked you in, cold seeped through you to the bone and you begin to feel dizzy. She noticed she found it hard to breathe a she continued to look at the gore, death and blood surrounding her. She heard cheers faintly in the distance as people celebrated. She couldn't see it though. No, all she saw was the lone girl, no more then 4. She lied lifeless in the middle of all the chaos. Pansy then started to think of her innocence. She could have been somebody, had kids, marriage… a life to the fullest. He had taken that from her. Pansy looked at the man that she shared a slight resemblance with and felt sick. He grinned like he had won the lottery.

Pansy however felt as if she had lost…everything.

She remembered being every age that was in front of her. She remembered their lives, the way they all seemed happy but hours ago before she came accompanying her father and other family friends for a 'fun day out'. By that they meant slaughtering poor innocents, well, at least slightly innocents. She doesn't know who they were nor what they did, yet again another loss. She might have had such a wonderful relationship with one of these people.

She thought back to when she was little, just the small girl's age who sat still in the awkward position; slowly turning cold.

She though of how she idolized her mother and father for being the bravest of the brave, defeating the evil people who try to hurt them, saving her from the monsters in the real world as well as the ones under her bed. She remembered wanting to be like them, to be able to go with them on their special missions that their friend sent them on, the one who had died at the hands of an infant child whom was the purest of evil. She wished to be their doubles and make them proud. Of course then she truly didn't understand the things she must do and the horror behind them, she didn't know who the real monsters were in the world. When she did ask her father who was bad and good he told her that she should always trust him, he was always the right side because he was daddy. And every little girl's daddy is her hero.

When she grew older she learnt more of the fairy tales of the boy whom her family and family friends hated so much and learnt all the reasons behind it. What they told her were the tales and truths in which her poor defenceless mind absorbed and believed without question, and by the age of 7 she had already formed a great hatred for the 'Boy Who Lived', for the boy who made all her family sad and lost and the boy who destroyed the plan to save all Wizarding kind. She studies witchcraft from an early age in a hope that she would be able to accompany her parents to kill the evil that was inside of Harry Potter. When she exclaimed her interest in this by age 6, her daddy exclaimed with happiness and chuckled in his deep throaty voice, mussing her hair as he stood from the ancient leather chair: he said 'that's my girl' before walking away from her and towards the kitchen. She grinned like the Cheshire cat in the memory and clapped her miniature hands together as se jumped up and down. He dad had been pleased. She would be able to help and accompany her hero to the missions he accomplished or attempted to.

As she grew up further her determination and skill increased as did her hate for the boy she had never met, the summer before her first year at Hogwarts her father had informed her that the brat himself would be in her year, which caused a sour look to spread across her slightly chubby face. Even at the mere thought of having one lesson with the petulant fool she felt unease, but the actual task itself will be disturbing and revolting. Unfortunately, her father made her promise to make herself known to the boy, be aware of him but 'don't become friends with the scrawny, small messy haired freak' She later found 'The Boy Who Lived' to be the size of a twig and unsurprisingly a total bore, when she was not punishing him and his friends, dweeb one and dweeb two.

As the year rolled on and the bullying became a daily occurrence Pansy started to doubt the boy was truly evil. He had tried to help so many and had saved them on more then one occasions but he still kept killing mummy and daddy's friends. Pansy was stuck. Be who you were brought up to be or be the person you wish and make your own choices. The second option had a great appeal but she had one weak point in it that would destroy her and her family. Daddy wouldn't approve. Every girl want her dad to care, she doesn't want to hurt or disappoint him. But she wants to live.

'You have a life time to live, don't let him down'

Her father's wants seemed to outweigh hers in the real world and in her head, but she still got to do one thing. She made her father proud of her… she made him proud!

When she finally come out of the stupor she was in she looks back down at the girl, tears still teem over even though she fights so hard her eyes have begun to hurt. She blinks as fast as possible and then wipes away the evidence of tears before the hot liquid makes a lot of contact with skin. Looking around she sees nothing has changed, except her father looks at her in a strange way. As if he was unsure of what to do.

Her hero was stuck.

She gave a small smile and looked back to the battle field like setting. She felt so much hate and anger; literal sickness began to drift to the surface at the thought of what they had done. She hated them with such passion. She wanted to forget what had happened but and the same time wished to hold it against them.

She wouldn't.

She knew it.

They knew it.

She'd do what she always did. She would think about what others expected of her. She would pretend everything was alright and soon enough start to fall for the act herself. Her way of living would return to normal and she would most likely participate and become accustomed to events like this.

For her sanity.

Her mother.

Her father. Her hero.

Because even though he has done some of the most horrendous things imaginable, even though he has tricked her and brain washed her into believing what he does, not giving her a choice, he's still her dad. And in every country, every continent, every part of the world, each and every little girl, whether she's 3 years old or 78, needs her daddy to be her hero. Never the bad guy. Even if they have to delude themselves every once in awhile.

Please read and review, first Harry Potter fic so… be gentle!

Gleek987


	2. flames AN

guess what? the flame girl/boy, is insulting all of my stories... well here a tip. don't like it, don't read it, don't review it. I wont have people bully me about something I'm passion-et about when there's one of you and a whole bunch of people who actually like y stories! mi a teenager, I'm not that great at spelling and yes, here and there i make a mistake with punctuation. but at least I don't make people feel like shit when I'm bored. so thanks. what next? call me fat? you really must be miserable if you get your kicks making other upset. or your probably a 40 year old virgin who will never be married because you don't treat people with an ounce of kindness or respect! I'm still in high school, what about you sweet-cheeks? so to everyone who reads my stories, if someone posts something like 'you and your story sucks. cheers' by (). delete it! they are not worth it. this is the last time I will acknowledged it.i just hope that person grows up. stop making people feel bad about themselves. trust me, i do that to myself enough. don't need anyone else to say anything! 


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